


If You Call For Me, You Know I'll Run

by kwillpleasedont



Category: B1A4, ONF (Band), Oh My Girl (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Androids, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, I'll add more tags later, Missing Friends, Missing Persons, Other, Past Present and Future, Time Travel, Time Travel Watches, Watches, Yuto has a dog named Happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:35:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwillpleasedont/pseuds/kwillpleasedont
Summary: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”― Søren Kierkegaard(Title taken from Lana Del Rey's Old Money, subject to change maybe)





	If You Call For Me, You Know I'll Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Lana Del Rey's Shades of Cool

_If we're not careful...._

He hasn't taken his watch off since he got it, keeps it hidden under long sleeves and jackets. His father had given it to him just before he died, laid it in his open palms while his father's own shook so badly he could barely hold onto it. And he had told him in harsh whispers and panicked breaths to _never let go of it, never loose it, never let them find it. _

He didn't really understand the last part, but he figures he doesn't really need to. He doesn't know who he's hiding the watch from, but as long as it was on his wrist he always knew where it was and if it was always covered then no one else knew where it was. When his father passed he packed up and took off, didn't explain, didn't say goodbye, just left as if he was never there in the first place. Left his name in the mouths of the few who cared, to everyone else he was nothing but a face in a crowd, just how he should be.

Barely seen, never heard, not here. Never here.

Disappearing wasn't hard when no one knew you, a name you could dispose of, hair you could cut, a life you could burn. Kill the you of yesterday to give birth to the you of tomorrow. 

And maybe that was what was best for him. He had no one weighing him down now; his father is dead and with no mother or other relatives to speak of, he was free. He had no one else, no one to convince him to stay, to ask where he was going, to question why. So he didn't really need to stay, it didn't matter if he had no one.

He tries to look at it positively, now that he has no responsibilities to his past home, he can finally go visit the beach. His father told him stories of that beach; water so blue and a shore so wide, miles of a secret paradise no one had seen before. Sand so warm it burned you up and water so cool it brought you right back down. His father had taken his mother there once, before Wyatt was born, pushed back the vines and bushes hiding the entrance to the cave and walked her through to the other side where she looked nothing short of an angel in that sun, in that water.

And Wyatt dreamed of it every night since he was ten years old and his father told him that story, the story of a woman Wyatt had never met but yearned for. He grew up dreaming of taking someone there with him when he was finally old enough to travel there himself, he wanted to have someone he could surprise, someone whose hair he could brush back, someone he could hold while the moon rose above the horizon to shine on them both.

He had someone. But not now. Never now.

The sand was just as warm as his father had described, boots in hand and toes in the warm sand. He had never felt anything like this, it was like a different energy here than the rest of the lonesome world Wyatt lived in. This place was magic and he found himself longing to share it with someone like he was ten again.

He's alone, his bike that leans against the rock of the cliff and his worn boots being his only audience as he strips himself of his remaining garments, only one layer keeping his bare body from being seen. He allows himself to relax in the water, it comforts him, warm like the sand, arms embracing him like he never had. He lays back and lets the ocean have him. It keeps him steady, keeps him afloat. 

And it's only when he pulls himself out of the water and back onto the sand that stick between his toes does he realize he never took off his father's watch. He rushes to grab his shirt and dry it off, hoping it isn't ruined. It was the only thing of his father's he had taken when he left home, it was the last piece he had of a home. If it was broken he would be alone.

He takes it off, for the first time in however many weeks it's been since he left, and lays it on his shirt to dry in the sun as he gets dressed. He knows he'll have to leave to spend the night somewhere, but now that he's here he doesn't want to leave. It's the magic he felt before, pulling him back to the water, to the sand.

But there's something different here this time. He feels like he isn't by himself. He checked before he went in the water, he's alone and this place isn't easy to find, so he has to be by himself. Who else could've found this place, you don't really just stumble upon it. So he must be alone. 

He looks over his shoulder just to make sure, which isn't anything new for him since he's started running, but it feels odd this time. More eerie. He doesn't see anything, no one who could be making him feel like this so he figures he's just being paranoid. And he throws the feeling away, buries it like the rest, and dives back into the water and her warm embrace.

Dunking his head under the water to get some of the heat off his neck feels refreshing, but when he resurfaces, the feeling has returned. He squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself that no one is there, no one has found him, but it still doesn't work. He isn't surprised when he turns around and no one's there, he's getting himself all worked up, he's too on edge to enjoy the water anymore. 

He swims to the shore and gets himself dry enough to thrown on his clothes and watch, then drags his bike through the cave and back out to the road. His father's watch seems fine, still ticks like it should, so he figures nothing's wrong. He needs to drive into the city and get himself a room for the night. Maybe he'll try again tomorrow in the light of a new day after he's slept this silly feeling off. The wind does wonders in drying him, drags the remaining water right off him and while he's dry like he wanted to be, it feels wrong somehow.

Finding a room in the city wasn't as hard as he expected it to be, despite how many people there are, the inns still seem to have rooms. It's crowded, a face everywhere you turn and all of them unfamiliar. It eases him just a little, being surrounded by strangers. No one to remind him of things long lost.

He's left his bike in the parking lot of the inn he's staying at, wanted to take a walk now that the sun's down. He tries not to focus on the faces around them, tries not to think about them and how they're probably all like him, a lost soul struggling to find what they should be looking for. He takes in everything else the city has to offer, the shimmering lights and the laughter, the smell of fresh food and the company. 

He gets literally knocked out of his daydream when he realizes a smaller boy has crashed right into him. He looks up at Wyatt with a face void of emotion and apologizes shyly and quickly takes off in the other direction, a small dog hot on the kid's heels. He brushes it off, thinking to himself how cute the dog was, until he realizes that he can't feel the weight of his father's watch on his wrist anymore and he realizes that the kid has pickpockted him.

He turns and runs through the crowd looking for him, all the faces still unfamiliar. He can't hear a dog barking, doesn't see someone running away to try and sneak off with the stolen goods as quickly as they can. He searches for no less than half an hour, refusing to believe that he lost his father's watch, his father's last wishes down the drain in only a matter of seconds.

He leans himself against a building to revel in his loss when he sees the dog again. It just rounded the corner of the building he's leaning against and he gets up, quickly scooping the dog into his arms. He pushes the thoughts of how cute it is to the back of his head so he can think of it as leverage, a bargaining chip to get his father's watch back.

The kid rounds the corner just as his four legged friend did and stops short when he sees Wyatt in front of him holding his dog. He doesn't have a discernible look on his face, like when he bumped into Wyatt not too long ago, but he's more focused on the dog than on the larger guy holding him.

"The watch." Wyatt says, voice just a shade deeper than his normal tone in hopes of scaring the kid into listening to him. The dog yelps in his arms, the kid's eyes flicking from the dog up to his own and the back to the dog.

He doesn't say anything, just reaches into his back pocket and pulls the watch out, looking down at it as if calculation something. Wyatt gives him a puzzled look, trying to hold onto the dog as it squirms in his arms to be put down. The kid gently turns the crown of the watch and then furrows his brows. 

"It doesn't work," The kid looks back up to him, stretching his arm out to give him back the watch. Wyatt takes it and hands the dog over as well. He expects the kid to take off, but he doesn't. Wyatt spares him a look then turns back down to the watch that is ticking just as it should.

"It's perfectly fine." Wyatt says and glares at the kid in confusion. His face is scrunched up as the dog licks at his cheek. 

"It doesn't work," The kid repeats, "We're still here, if it worked we wouldn't be."

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding. The kid pulls his flannel sleeve up to reveal a watch exactly like the one now on Wyatt's own. Wyatt's brows furrows and he reaches for the kid's arm to get a closer look.

"You don't know how to use it." And it's a statement, not a question. Like the kid knows more than him, knows something Wyatt doesn't. 

"Who are you?" Wyatt asks, letting the boy's wrist drop from his hold.

"I'm U, and this is Happy." He says, bouncing the dog in his arms like a child. "Your watch, it can take you places, times."

Wyatt isn't sure what he means. Logically he knows a watch shows, not takes. Shows you the time, the hour, doesn't take you. But this kid seems to know more about it than he does, he has matching one so Wyatt's inclined to believe the boy does know more than himself. He tugs his sleeve over the watch as a reflex.

"Tell me about the watch." Wyatt states, firm and strong, putting on the facade again.

_this could ruin everything._


End file.
